Farewell
by BrOkEnToYbOx
Summary: -Bad Touch Trio- It was hard to say goodbye. Even harder when you knew that, after all the years, this would probably be the last time you said their name. But still, everyone has to let go at some point. Even if it hurts to say the word 'Farewell'.


**I made myself sad... WHY DO I GIVE MYSELF THESE FEELINGS?! This sad little oneshot was inspired by two things - one, Goodbye part.11: The Bad Touch Trio by The-Golden-Sunrise, which is about the Bad Touch Trio (AU) going their separate ways, and two, ||.If I Die Young.|| Preußen by ixApples on Youtube. And so those two sad things merged and formed this. I'M SO SORRY!**

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Spain sat on the edge of a cliff, legs dangling over the side and green eyes cast upon the soft ocean beyond. The sun was beating down on his tan skin, basking the grass around him in a glorious light. By the man's side, something rattled, the blanket obscuring the creature slipping a bit from the movement of its cage. Spain cast a look at the object briefly before approaching footsteps, pressing softly against the land, tore his attention away. Blue eyes locked with emerald for the first time in what seemed like decades, but was probably only a few months.

"Antonio." The other nation said, his French accent flowing with his words. Spain just smiled weakly at the other man, usually cheery eyes unusually subdued.

"Francis." He replied. The was a chirp from the blanket covered cage to Spain's right and this time France looked down, ocean blue gaze locking on the cloth as if he could see through it and to the creature inside. He smiled sadly.

"I have to say," He murmured, voice catching on the wind. "I never once thought I would be doing this."

Spain followed France's gaze and he too, smiled in that pitiful way that was unlike either of the two countries. His tanned fingers, scarred slightly by war, reached out and ran themselves along the smooth fabric, eyes somewhat glazed as memories faded in and out of his brain. Like a movie, almost.

"Me neither..." His hand dropped and his head turned to the side, resuming its original position facing the sea. Soft chocolate locks blew in the gentle breeze and a choked chuckle escaped the man's lips. "It's ironic really... always going on about how awesome he was, how he was the ruler of the world... And then just vanishing..."

France nodded in agreement, not caring that the other country couldn't see his gesture. Then, he walked slowly forwards, taking up a position besides Spain, the cage dividing them. His blue eyes gazed at the sun kissed sky, watching as the orange orb slowly sunk further towards the horizon.

"Should we get started then?" He asked, voice almost a whisper. Spain sighed before moving to stand, a groan escaping his lips as he stretched his stiffened joints. His fingers wrapped round the handle of the cage and he lifted it up along with his body, using his left hand to pull the blanket off and drop it to the floor. The small yellow bird cheeped happily now that it was out of the darkness and into the warm rays of the sun. France smiled.

"Hey, Gilbird." He greeted, causing the little canary to turn his beady eyes onto the French man, heading cocking cutely to the side. Spain chuckled a little bit before his laughter died down and France and he shared a knowing look.

"You want to go first?" The Spaniard asked. France shook his head.

"You can start... I don't really know what to say..."

Spain sighed before turning back to face the vast ocean, trying to conjure up a thoughtful speech about his late friends life. Which was hard, considering what he had been like.

"You were an idiot." Great start. France laughed. "A god damn idiot. You were loud, violent and one hell of a drunk. Oh, and your laugh was ridiculous." He was smiling now, a stinging feeling developing in the corners of his eyes. "But, you were also funny, and you had your kind moments. Especially when it came to raising Ludwig. You were one of my best friends... And now you're gone." Something warm trailed down Spain's cheek and he wasn't surprised to find himself crying. Or the find that, when glancing to the side, France was doing the exact same.

"Your womanizing skills were awful, even though you couldn't see it..." France continued, picking up from where Spain left off. "Although you would've thought all those times you got whacked in the face with Hungary's frying pan would've proven you wrong. You were reckless, and I can't count how many stupid adventures you dragged us on... But they were some of the best times of my life..." The blonde choked on a sob, tears flowing freely from both his and Spain's eyes. "It's weird to think... to think that all those are over. That you're not here anymore..."

The bird in the cage chirped again, the bars rattling as he hopped around. It was strange seeing the thing caged and not free, perched happily on the white mess of hair that he had made his nest. Spain sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, a watery smile staining his lips.

"Can you imagine what he would say? Looking at us now? A crying mess?" Spain choked out, voice wavering. France just wiped his own tears with the butt of his palm, golden locks fluttering in the wind.

"Something like '_It's un-awesome to cry'_, I would guess."

Spain let out a hollow laugh, more tears trickling down his cheeks, leaving glistening wet streaks in their wake.

"Yeah, probably..."

A gust of wind blew at their clothes, rustling them and also causing the bird cage to swing and the yellow canary to tweet.

"I guess we should wrap this up then?" Spain's heart constricted at that, the words having barely left his mouth. He didn't want to say goodbye, not yet. But he couldn't put it off forever. The more he waited, the harder it would be to move one.

"Qui, I guess so."

And so with shaking fingers, Spain reached for the door of the cage, carefully unclipping it before pulling open the barred barrier. The little yellow bird was tentative at first – hesitant. His marble like black eyes flicked from France to Spain and then back again before he took his first few hobs forwards, perching on the rim of the cage.

"Go on... Gilbird." France encouraged, more tears spilling out from his azure orbs. "Go on..."

And then, in mere seconds, one fail swoop of his wings, the canary had sprung from the cage, taking off in flight. His golden body glided off the edge of the cliff, wings slicing through the air. Spain and France watched after him, a faraway look in their eyes as if they were watching something – _someone_ – other than the little bird fly away across the ocean.

"Adios, Gilbert..."

"Au revoir, Gil..."

There was a moment of silence then, the only noise being the soft whistling of the wind as it sailed through the lush blades of green grass and the rustling of leaves on the nearby trees. Then, the almost comfortable hush was broken by a sigh and Spain turned his head to the side, tears dry on his cheeks and emerald orbs dull in sadness. France gave a withering smile to his friend, a soft, almost accepting, tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I think we should go... I am... content with things... I think..." His velvety French voice was soft and mellow, eyes slightly brighter than before.

"I don't think I'll ever be content..." Spain muttered, before quirking his lips slightly. "But this is the best I could hope for, at least... I guess it really did help me to accept things."

France nodded and took a few steps to his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

"And now, mon ami, it is time for us to leave... We've said goodbye..." Spain sighed and gave one last look to the rapidly receding form of the canary, now just a splotch of yellow against the sky, before France dropped his hand and the two turned around, footsteps light across the grass.

"_Did you two call the awesome me an idiot? Francis, Antonio?" _

France and Spain froze, eyes growing wide as the loud words flowed into their ears, German accent instantly registering in their brains. Without a moment's hesitation, the two whipped their bodies round to face the edge of the cliff, muscles tensing when they saw where the voice had come from.

His body was ghostly, translucent, yet his eyes were still that same vibrant red. Despite not having a solid form, his hair still fluttered in the soft mountain breeze, and his usual grin stretched across his pale, pale face. He was dressed in the same outfit he had disappeared in, his usual attire of navy suit, yet his cap was missing.

"Gilbert..." Spain whispered, voice croaky.

The dissolved nation just grinned even more, and Spain couldn't help but smile back. A light, happy smile. Of course the undertones of sorrow were still there, embedded in the lift of his lips, but the expression was getting closer to its old form.

"Yeah... we did, you idiot Prussian..." France's voice was little more than a whisper, a grin tugging at his mouth.

Gilbert just smiled, grin fading into a more subdued and uncharacteristic expression, eyes softening. France and Spain felt their heartstrings tug simultaneously at the uncommon expression on their old friends face, knowing that this would be the first and last time they would see such a gentle smile on the once ruthless country.

"Gil–"

"_Vielen dank..." _France was cut off by Gilbert's words, ruby eyes locked onto green and blue. _"Seriously... Thank you... You know, you guys may even surpass me in awesomeness one day..."_

Spain scoffed and sniffed, trying to hold back yet more tears. Crying in front of France was one thing, there was no way he was about to cry in front of Prussia.

"That's impossible and you know it, Gil." The Spaniard retorted. Gilbert grinned again.

"_I know."_

Another bout of silence settled amoung the three as they just stood there, staring at each other for what was definitely the last time. The Bad Touch Trio would be no more once they left this place, and for all of them, that was something too painful to think about.

"Adious, Gil, you awesome idiot."

"Au revoir, Gilbert..."

"_Abschied, Francis... Antonio..."_

And then he was gone. The ghostly projection faded into the air, image evaporating into tiny golden molecules that sparkled before completely vanishing.

Prussia was officially dissolved in 1947.

The group had known he was going to disappear for years, already.

He had already been effectively abolished in 1932.

But still, it hurt to see him go.

And it hurt even more to know that the Bad Touch Trio no longer existed.

It just wouldn't be the same.


End file.
